


Happy Birthday To Me (Chocolate Cake and Wildflowers)

by naarna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday Cake, Birthday Fluff, Community: hawthorn_vine, F/M, H&V If The Prompt Fits, Hermione's birthday, Hermione's turning 40, Sort of Valentine Fic, Website: Hawthorn & Vine, based on a prompt, candlelight dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naarna/pseuds/naarna
Summary: It's Hermione's 40th birthday, but everyone else is either on a vacation trip or buried in work, so she decides to celebrate it with a candlelight dinner just for herself. However, an unexpected visitor turns the evening into something worth remembering.





	Happy Birthday To Me (Chocolate Cake and Wildflowers)

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted to Hawthorn & Vine as a submission to the If The Prompt Fits Challenge 2016-2017. :-)
> 
> The prompts I used for this story were the following:  
> a) _Divorcee Hermione's alone, at home and blowing out the candles of her 40th birthday cake._  
>  b) _Draco and Hermione enjoy a romantic dinner at a restaurant._ (though only hinted at)
> 
> Last, but not least, many, many thanks to _Maloreiy_ for beta reading the story and providing further insights to make the story better!  <3

“Finally!” Hermione exclaimed when she stepped into her flat that Thursday evening, a bag of groceries in her hand. It had been a long and busy day at work, but today of all days she had made a point of leaving early. It was her birthday, after all, and she didn't want to waste the evening stuck at the Ministry, as much as she loved her colleagues from the Minister's consulting staff. Many of them had come by to her office to congratulate her on turning forty. By the end of the day, her normally rather spacious office was somewhat swamped with flowers and cards from throughout the Ministry's departments. Harry had even stopped by in the afternoon with a wonderful bouquet and a small present, only to apologise that he unfortunately couldn't make it this evening, as a case he was working on as an Auror required his attention. At least, that had been his excuse, and she still wasn't quite sure whether to believe him because his smile had looked somewhat guilty.

The only one who hadn't mentioned anything at all throughout the day, despite working closely together as fellow members of the consulting staff, was Draco. Ever since helping each other through their respective losses—her divorce from Ron, and the accidental death of his beloved wife Astoria about three years ago—they had become close. So yes, she felt slightly disappointed that he hadn't said a word about it, even though he had clearly seen the flowers in her office when he had come to remind her about some numbers he needed. The Weasleys were all on a trip to Romania, Ron included, so she was sure that her birthday would be celebrated as soon as they were back—and in true Weasley fashion, with many presents and with everyone joining an utterly delicious feast. So with everyone being otherwise occupied, Hermione decided to simply enjoy the evening on her own, pampering herself with a nice little candlelit dinner, which involved a bottle of good wine and a delicious self-cooked meal. Eager to get cooking, she brought her groceries into the kitchen.

“Oh!” she said in surprise when she noticed almost too late that she had nearly squashed a cake with her grocery bag. “That wasn't here this morning.” Surprised at the cake's presence, but just as curious, she grabbed the note attached to it and it made her smile. Notes from her daughter always made her smile.

_Happy Birthday, Mum!_  
I can't come tonight, so I made you a cake instead. I know you love them moist and chocolatey!  
We can meet up for lunch tomorrow, and then I can tell you how my entry exam for uni went.  
Kisses, Rose

Rose had told her about those exams for the Wizarding University and she was sure her daughter would ace them easily. In this respect, they were both very much alike—they were both perfectionists and though always rather over-prepared for everything, they still thought they hadn't done enough. So yes, Rose was excused, especially as she had made her favourite cake. After putting the groceries on the counter in the order she would need them later, Hermione Summoned four candles that were left over from the year before to put on the cake. “Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me,” she sang quietly to herself while lighting the candles. Four of them, each for a decade in her life. She felt content, despite the fact that not all her dreams had worked out, or at least not in the way she had imagined them.

Her marriage, for example.

The divorce from Ron two years ago still stung sometimes because it had put an end to a golden era. It wasn't that they had fought a lot, or that they didn't love each other anymore—no, it had just been a painful realisation on both sides that they had grown too much in different directions to be able to make it work any longer. ‘Painful’ was the right word for it, because it had felt like failure when everyone else around them still seemed to make things work. She remained a part of the extended Weasley family and she was glad for that; it was only the relationship with Ron that was still a bit awkward, as they had to find their footing again as just friends. But they seemed to be okay now. And since the divorce, her job as a member of the Minister's consulting staff heading Muggle relations kept her occupied and sufficiently challenged—her effort had recently started to pay off, as the Minister had dropped hints that he might back her should she consider running as his successor.

So even if it didn't work out as planned, life was good at this point and she decided to celebrate it this evening.

“Happy Birthday to me,” she repeated once more, and blew the candles out. Should she even make a wish? She was a bit lonely sometimes, but she was still content with the way things were. She figured that things would come into place as they were meant to be. With a smile, she then cut herself a small slice of the cake, saving the rest to devour as dessert, before getting started with the preparations for her birthday candlelight dinner.

* * *

It knocked.

Hermione had just sat down at her nicely laid-out dining table, a plate of delicious-looking, mouth-watering stuffed sea bass in front of her. The first bite of the fish sitting on her fork, she stared in the direction of the door, willing the intruder to go away. This was her evening and she wasn't going to be disturbed tonight. Hungrily, she finally put the loaded fork in her mouth and immediately let out a small delighted moan. “Oh yes, perfect!”

There was another knock at the door, a bit louder this time.

“Gods, _really_?” she said after swallowing, displeased to be interrupted. They were still there and were really expecting her to open the door. With a small sigh, she got up to answer the door, despite preferring to just finish her meal and then have the rest of her cake. “Changed your mind?” she asked, slightly irritated, expecting her friends at the door. But then she stopped in her tracks. “Draco?”

“To say that I was in the neighbourhood would be a lie,” the tall blond replied, amused at her surprise. “But I couldn't let the day pass without wishing you Happy Birthday–”

“You haven't said a word all day at work!” she countered. “I was actually disappointed that you seemed to have forgotten it.” Then she noticed the bouquet of wild flowers in his hand—her favourite flowers, and so wonderfully arranged.

“You think I didn't get the hint with all the flowers and cards in your office?” He leaned in, smirking. “I’ve never forgotten it before, but I didn't want to distract you,” he added, pressing a soft peck on her cheek. “Happy Birthday, Hermione!” he said, as he handed her the bouquet.

“Thanks,” she replied softly, trying to hide the fact that the touch of his lips had sent a small shiver down her spine. She smelled the flowers, which reminded her so much of the last days of summer, touched that he remembered they were her favourite. Everyone else had gotten her roses or potted plants. “They are lovely.”

He nodded and straightened himself again, only to lean against the doorframe, his hands disappearing in his coat pockets. “Go get your coat; I'd like to take you out tonight, candlelight dinner and everything.”

Hermione glanced at him for a moment and then her smile widened. “You want to take me out?” Her heart beat faster at the idea of sharing a candlelight dinner with him—their shared lunch dates were already something she always thoroughly enjoyed. “Pity that I'm already having a candlelight dinner, then,” she said, opening her door further.

He slumped visibly, and she could see a frown on his face for a second before he seemed to gather himself again. “Am I interrupting something? You already have a guest?” he asked, sounding surprisingly disappointed while he took in the dinner table that was visible from the door. She knew that he was flexing his fingers in his pockets—he always did that when he tried to hide his upset state.

She turned her head to follow his gaze, then shook her head. “No, no,” she replied, chuckling in embarrassment. “They are all out of the country or otherwise occupied, so I figured I would just celebrate on my own with a nice little candlelit dinner. You know, pamper myself a bit.” To her amusement, she could see him straighten up immediately, and though there was a new spark in his eyes, he still kept fidgeting ever so slightly.

“Do... do you want me to leave again?” he asked with a nod towards the street, biting his lower lip. “I mean I... I just wanted to treat you to a nice dinner, and you were already pampering yourself. I didn't mean to intrude.”

She realised that he was surprisingly nervous, something that even she had only rarely witnessed. “Draco, you of all people never intrude,” she asserted, smelling the flowers once more. Her heart skipped another beat when she realised that this was the perfect opportunity. Her warm smile grew wider. “But if you want, you could join me for dinner here.” She stepped aside to let him in and added, “I think I made enough for two people.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, placing another kiss on her cheek before entering. “You look great, by the way.”

She blushed, and closed the door. “Just make yourself comfortable at the table while I put the flowers in a vase and get you a second plate. I know you like fish. I made some stuffed sea bass.”

About an hour later, they were sitting comfortably next to each other on the sofa, the cake Rose had made for Hermione's birthday on the table in front of them—it went nicely with the bottle of red wine they wanted to finish. “Now, you said, you wanted to take me out to a candlelight dinner yourself? Care to share the details of what you had in mind?” Hermione asked, before taking another bite of the cake and leaning towards him.

“Remember lunch two weeks ago? You said you would love to go to that new place–”

“The Black Quill? But it's constantly booked out for weeks!”

He nodded, and then added a shrug. “Yes, that one,” he replied and took a bite of his piece of cake. “Gods, your daughter knows how to make them!”

She laughed. “Oh yes, I taught her the basics, but she has ruined my kitchen more often than not,” she said, leaning against his shoulder; she found it remarkably comfortable. “But why didn't you ask me out before? I would have said yes, you know.”

He took her hand, letting his thumb brush over her palm. “I don't know, really. I like our lunch dates. I always look forward to them, because then I can spend time with you. But they are always over too fast.”

“I like them too. And I love that we can talk about everything.” She watched his hand caressing hers; it was such a simple gesture, but so soft. He had sometimes done it before during their lunch dates, mostly when they were talking about something personal.

“It's just that every time I was ready to ask you out, work interfered,” he continued with a low voice, “be it your project to better relations with the Muggle government, or some emergency I needed to take care of. And then there were days I was just glad I made it through without losing it...”

“I know,” she whispered, lacing her fingers with his.

He smiled at her gesture. “You're gorgeous, smart, and... and somewhat more than just a really good friend.” Pausing, he looked at her. “Thanks.”

Hermione got the impression that there was more to his words—that he was trying to say something specific. “So, you think I'm gorgeous?” she asked, teasing him softly to lighten the mood a bit.

He chuckled, and turned towards her. “Age really becomes you. And if I didn't know any better I'd swear your wear those delightfully skinny skirts for me–”

“Draco!” She nudged him in response, not letting go of his hand. “You can think that if it makes you feel better, but I wear them because I like them.”

“Oh, seeing you in those skirts definitely _makes me feel better_ ,” he replied, finally placing a soft kiss on her cheek, only to place another one closer to her earlobe.

“Whatever,” she said, rather breathily, in response to his attentions. Gods, how many times had she imagined him doing that during their lunch dates, especially when they were sitting close at a smaller table?

“You know, those lunch dates,” he began, trailing down further to her neck, “are no longer enough.”

“Hm-hm,” Hermione let out in agreement, sighing contentedly. “I-I know.” She closed her eyes when she felt his free hand on her chin, his thumb tracing her jaw. It was such a gentle touch it made her shiver. This was turning into a great evening. She opened her eyes in surprise when she suddenly felt his lips being placed on hers. “Draco?” she whispered, studying his face. Gods, his eyes! They had changed to a darker shade and she thought she could see so much in them.

“I can't get you out of my head, Hermione,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I... I mean I–”

Hermione stopped him from babbling by kissing him back. She couldn't really get him out of her head either; maybe that was why she had been disappointed all day about him saying nothing.

“Mmm,” she moaned when he at last framed her head, and parted his lips to meet hers. Their touch was electrifying, and she wanted more, wanted to taste everything. Forget chocolate cake, this was so much better! There was so much emotion involved, as if he put everything into the kiss—longing, hope, even a touch of sadness, but above all, desire. The feel of his hands buried in her hair let her forget everything else around them; only the feel and the taste of his lips counted in that moment.

“You coming here tonight is the best present,” she breathed, licking her reddened lips, when she finally broke off for air.

“Yes,” he replied, just as breathless as her, still brushing his hands over her hair. “I just _had_ to tell you.” And with that, he claimed her lips for another kiss.

* * *

“Mum? Are you here?” Rose came through the fireplace the next morning sounding slightly concerned. “Mum?”

“Ugh,” Hermione grumbled. She and Draco were in the kitchen, enjoying a late breakfast, while she sat in his lap.

“Your daughter?” Draco asked, fishing for another piece of fruit on the table to offer it to her, while holding her hips in place with the other.

She nodded, and took a bite from the fruit. This was most definitely the best way to have breakfast, comfortably sitting in his lap, slurping her coffee and getting fed by him.

“Mum?”

“Maybe, if we keep quiet she might leave again,” he remarked, smirking at the eagerness with which she was taking the rest of the fruit into her mouth and licking at his fingers in the process.

“She's like her mother, too curious for her own good.”

Rose finally found them, smiling happily at her mother, only to gasp in surprise when she saw the additional company. “Mr Malfoy?”

“Good morning,” he replied with a wink, and reached for his coffee mug to have a sip.

“Mum, Uncle Harry said you took a day off, and he asked me to check on you, to make sure you're not sick or something.” Rose sat down on the free chair at the table, looking at both of them rather expectantly.

“I know,” Hermione replied, and giggled when Draco placed a kiss on her jaw. “We just both thought that we more than earned it... Draco, stop for a moment, please. I'm trying to talk to my daughter here.”

“Make her leave, I don't want to share you today,” he whispered in response, earning himself a nudge from Hermione.

“So, how did _this_ happen?” Rose asked, helping herself to some toast and marmalade. “Scorpius said something about you being rather nervous yesterday morning, Mr Malfoy–”

“Nervous?” Hermione asked, surprised. “You planned to tell me?”

He nodded. “I just told him that I plan to come by. Didn't think I'd get so lucky.”

“Oh yes, _lucky_ you got.” Hermione kissed him on the cheek before popping another grape in her mouth.

“And I plan to get _lucky_ again later on.”

 


End file.
